District Zero
by randomgirl18
Summary: I take a deep breath as time starts to tick down from 60. Standing to my left is Gale. Across the arena, Peeta stands on his platform, to the right of him is my mother. Never have I thought I'd find myself here. I'm back in the games. The people I'm against are those I love and care about. And in order to save Panem, I have to kill all of them. Post Mockingjay, Pre Epilogue.
1. Birthday Massacre

**A/N: Hello, readers. This story has been in the works for quite awhile, and I finally found the guts to start posting it on here. It would honestly really make my day if you could let me know what you think of it. This is my first Hunger Games fan fic, so I'm a little unsure of it. Thank you for reading and please review. **

**_One: Birthday Massacre_**

A hurling fireball ricochets off a tree, grazing my shoulder, blackening the skin. From behind, the vicious snarl of mutts forces me to keep running, gasping for air in the smoke-filled forest. Somewhere, Gale calls my name. I have to reach him before it's too late. But I've been in this nightmare enough times to know I never will.

"Katniss! Katniss, run!"

Another fireball, this one right in the chest. I'm down before I can let out a scream of anguish. The pain that explodes through my skin is close to unbearable. It's like millions of needles prickling my chest, the heat of their touch going right to the core of my body.

"Katniss!"

His voice is too close. I jerk my head up to see Gale running towards me, alarm on his face. If only he knew I wasn't the target, he was.

"No, Gale!" I scream in panic. "Gale, run! Run!"

But he doesn't listen. He never listens.

The mutts rush past me, as if I'm invisible, their sights locked on Gale, thirsty for his blood. In an instance Gale's thrown on the ground, the force of the mutts' strength deadly and inexorable.

"Gale!"

He doesn't hear me. He won't hear me. His screaming is in itself deafening, echoing against trees, piercing my eardrums.

I watch, helpless, as the mutts tear at his body, ripping off limps, biting into flesh. Even when Gale goes silent, the mutts don't stop, as if their satisfaction will only come when Gale is unrecognizable. In pieces. Mutilated.

And when they're done with him, they'll come for me. That's how it always works out. Forcing me to go through the devastation of watching my friend die and then performing the merciless act on me.

I can see the mutts turning to me now. Their teeth bare, almost in a sinister smile. I struggle to get up from the ground, to wake up from this dream, but the mutts continue to advance towards me, blood dripping from their fur. Closer, closer, ready to destroy me…

"Katniss! Katniss, wake up!"

Opening my eyes, I take in a breath of life as if for the first time. Then another one and another, until my lungs are full of the air that seems to have escaped me. Greasy Sae looks down on me from where I lie in my bed, concern wrinkling her face. By the window, Buttercup hisses at me angrily.

It was just a nightmare. I'm still alive. But that only means one thing.

Gale is still missing.

xXx

It has been one year, two months, and seventeen days since the day the rebels fully gained control of the districts. Don't think I'm keeping track, I would give anything to forget about the rebellion and the Hunger Games completely. It's because of these things that I can't fall asleep without fearing for a repeated nightmare, the reason I wake up screaming as I watch people I love die right in front of me.

There's a calendar hung up in front of the Justice Building that counts the days. It's not strange to see people staring at it on their way to work or school, either in admiration or painful remembrance. Sometimes I, too, pause on my way to the woods, watching the second-hand click up time, forever taking us farther and farther from the Capital's grasp. But I know there will never be a day when we're released from the Capital completely. So many people have died. Every time I think of Prim, Snow and the Hunger Games are not far from my mind.

This morning, though, I try desperately not to think of any of that. Especially not my nightmare. I know today is supposed to be a special day- it's my day- and I'll spoil my mood if I let any negativity control my thoughts.

Instead, I force myself to pet Buttercup's head before going to my closet to pull out my hunting clothes. Buttercup complains in hisses, but I take it as a form of endearment. If he truly hated me then he wouldn't have chosen my room as his place of rest and leisure. And I'm the closest thing to Prim he has left.

Sliding on my leather boots, I glance at myself in the mirror tacked up on the wall. Blank, unnerving eyes, tight lips curved into a daring half-smile. It has taken several months to master this look, and what with the emotional breakdowns and horrifying dreams the Games have tortured me with, I'm almost proud of it. When people look at me, they don't automatically think I'm still suffering.

Greasy Sae is one of the few people who can see past the look. She has become a second motherly figure to me now that my mother is living and working at the Capital, and I confine in her when my nightmares become unbearable or my thoughts become consumed in memories of a not too distant past.

She usually listens to me when we're cooking together. It has become one of my favorite past times, aside from hunting. Greasy Sae knows an endless amount of quick, easy recipes. I like to watch her hands work in such precision, crafting pies and cuts of meat and stews. Just like Peeta expertly molds bread dough or decorates cakes. I don't have their touch of perfection, but I'm learning well enough.

When I arrive downstairs, Greasy Sae already has my breakfast on the table, along with a pastry which, as I look closer, has happy birthday written on it in frosting. I smile slightly, thinking that Peeta had actually remembered when my birthday was. Of course I shouldn't be surprised; it seemed like Peeta could recall any piece of information if it was important to him.

It's strange to think about. I'm important to Peeta. Peeta is important to me. I'm not sure how it would feel like if Peeta suddenly disappeared from my life. Who would be there to hold me when my dreams become so vivid and terrifying I'm afraid to sleep? Who would teach me to bake? Who would draw me pictures? Who would be my friend now that Gale is gone?

Gale. I can't think of him. I can't think of him!

I bit down hard on the pastry, ripping it with my teeth aggressively, as if this will destroy my thoughts of Gale.

"What, are you upset you're another year older?"

Greasy Sae appears in the doorway, her usual smirk-like smile curving her lips.

"No." I think a moment, determining how I feel about this. "I'm glad. It means I'm not dead." I speak the obvious.

"Many people can't say that," Greasy Sae agrees. "What are you going to do today to celebrate?"

"I'm going hunting. Besides that, I'm not sure. I'm sure Peeta will want to do something."

"He came over to drop off the pastry. He said to stop by the Justice Building; he has a surprise for you."

My forehead wrinkles. "He knows I don't like surprises," I say.

"Katniss, he's a baker," Greasy Sae says, laughing. "I'm sure you can guess what his surprise is."

I start to smile again at the thought of Peeta baking me a cake. Before the Games, any bakery goods from the Mellarks was too much of a luxury to even think about.

Pushing up from the table, I collect my bow and sheath of arrows waiting for me by the door. The familiar feel of my bow resting in my palm instantly comforts me. I turn back to give Greasy Sae a welcoming look for the food.

"Any requests?" I ask.

"I haven't made wild dog stew in a while," she says with a wink.

xXx

It only takes one look around District 12 to know our district is thriving.

Of course there is a lot still needed to be done, buildings to be built, stores to be reopened, the town square to be decorated in all the lively colors representing the rebels' victory. But the people here are happier. You can see it in their faces, hear it in their laughter.

Some of the faces are not from here. Since the districts are not isolated from each other as they were before, it has become fairly easy to visit or move to other districts. The same goes for trade. Our district's market place is now flowing with a diverse assortment of goods and materials from all across Panem. When the market gets in a big shipment of goods, Peeta and I spend the day looking for unique or interesting things to buy.

Once Peeta surprised me with a trinket from District 1. It was heart-shaped with three tiny, sparkling diamonds inside. It had to have cost him at least two weeks profit at his bakery. I never told him I'd take his pearl- the belonging he brought to the Games with him- over the diamonds any day, but the thought of Peeta going to such lengths to buy this for me meant a lot.

As I walk, I dig into my pocket and clutch onto the trinket. It rests right beside the pearl and my Mockingjay pin. I'd like to think I keep these things with me because of how important they are, but really they help to keep me sane. To help me remember who I am.

I only let go when I reach the Justice Building. Peeta is waiting for me outside. He pulls me into a strong hug, my face pressing against his neck, the smell of flour on my nose.

"Happy birthday, Katniss." Pulling away, he gives me a quick but gentle kiss on the lips. "How are you feeling?"

The way Peeta is smiling at me right now, I can't feel anything but happiness. Leaning in for a more elaborate kiss, I'm interrupted at the sound of a door getting shoved open.

"I ask you to do one thing, one measly thing, and instead I find you-" Haymitch stops when he sees me. "Oh, it's you. Someone mentioned it was your birthday, sweetheart. I guess that explains the cake sitting in my office."

"Haymitch!" Peeta says angrily. "You weren't supposed to mention that!"

"And you were supposed to send those papers to the Capital, and did you do that, huh?"

"I was getting to that," Peeta mutters, clearly annoyed. Turning back to me, his face softens into a sheepish grin. He gestures to the Justice Building. "Well, do you want to see your cake?"

Walking inside, I can't rid the thought of when I was here only a few years ago, after volunteering to take Prim's place as a tribute, willingly giving myself up into the merciless Capital fun they call the Hunger Games. As we walk past the small hallway of rooms used for tributes saying their last farewells, I do not dare to glance into it. Then, Prim, my mother, and Gale had said goodbye to me, but now it feels like I was saying goodbye to them. All three of them are gone from my life now.

I lean in closer to Peeta and he snakes his hand around my waist, keeping me safe against him. I know he has memories of the Games too. Maybe it's even worse for him, after being enslaved by Snow and given high doses of tracker jacker venom to cloud his mind. Maybe he, too, has dreams so vivid it's like he's replaying the past. But Peeta never lets these emotions take over him, something I admire him for.

Stopping in front of Haymitch's office, Peeta turns to me. When his lips touch mine, I conform myself into his body, my heart racing under the touch of his hands. The cake Peeta baked me isn't my present, this is my present. The warmth, the desire that spreads through my body. Peeta's breath in my face, the feeling of his lips as he mouths the words I love you. Even when we're done kissing, out of breath, smiling, we hold on to each other tightly. This will never get old, I think. I can't live without loving Peeta.

Haymitch appears and we have to break apart. Peeta shows me my cake and it's as beautiful and artistic as I imagined it being. It's in the shape of a bow, an arrow slung into place and ready to fire.

"I was going to add more details… about what happened." Peeta looks uncomfortable as he says this. "But I thought maybe you wouldn't want to remember that." In a rush, he adds, "I know it's kind of plain."

"No, Peeta, I love it." I flash him a sincere smile. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he answers softly, a warm glow coming back into his eyes as he looks at me.

"Well, are we going to eat it or just stare at it?" Haymitch asks bluntly.

As we eat, Haymitch fills us in on all the government business throughout the districts and the Capital. District 12 hasn't elected a mayor or government official to run the city, so for now Haymitch is taking over that role, and Peeta and I help where we can. At first I was concerned with Haymitch having so much power over the decisions of our district, but I'm finding him to be a very gifted political figure. He has the right intentions and he is in never-ending contact with the Capital, making us always informed and up-to-date with what's going on.

"Everything's pretty peaceful. Except for that hovercraft sighting in District 3, but that's still up for question."

"What hovercraft sighting in District 3?" Peeta asks. "Do you mean it wasn't our hovercraft?"

"The man who saw it claims it didn't look like the ones the Capital uses." Haymitch shrugs and dips a piece of cake into his wine glass. "But then where could the hovercraft have come from?"

"Homemade invention?" Peeta suggests.

"Just because we're free from Snow's grasp doesn't mean rules and laws don't still apply. And one of those rules is the construction of a hovercraft; you can't do it."

"Is there another city or group of people nearby?" I ask but already know the answer. In school, we were taught that the land surrounding the districts was too abused by past civilizations to support life.

"No, no. Like I said, it's still up for question. I'm sure the man just made a mistake. It's nothing to worry your little heads about."

"You're right," Peeta says, clearly ready to dismiss the subject. "So, Katniss, what do you usually do to celebrate your birthday?"

"Nothing much. Prim used to sing me happy birthday. My mother attempted to make a cake a few times, but those never turned out well." I shake my head a little. "Really, I don't need to celebrate. It's just a day."

"Yeah, but it's still _your _day. Tell you what, you go hunt and when you come back I'll have something planned for us to do, okay?"

I can tell by Peeta's face that he's already thinking. I nod and lean in for one more kiss when Haymitch isn't looking before heading out to the woods.

xXx

Since it is now legal to roam outside the fence that surrounds the district, it's not unlikely to come across an amateur hunter trying to get fresh meat for his family. Because of this, I have to be very careful choosing where and when I hunt. Luckily, I've found an area about a quarter of a mile from the fence that's untouched and filled with game.

The first thing I do is check my snares and come clean with two rabbits. There is no stream or lake nearby, so I can't fish, and I spend the rest of my time resetting traps and trying to shoot down larger animals with my bow.

My eyes have just locked onto a deer some fifty feet ahead when I hear a noise. It's not an animal. It's coming from the sky. A bird? No, no bird can be _that _loud.

Whatever it is, it scares the deer. I curse softly, knowing I had just the shot to kill it.

The noise comes back again, louder this time. Looking up, I squint my eyes against the sunlight to see a hovercraft come into view. It's low, narrowly missing the tops of trees, and it looks like it doesn't know where it's going from its choppy movements. But what startles me the most is the looks of it. I have seen enough Capital hovercrafts to know their designs. And this one does not look like one at all.

A shiver runs up my body. Is this the kind of hovercraft the man in District 3 saw? Where did it come from? Why is it traveling through the districts?

I flatten my body against a tree, not daring to stand out in the open. I don't know if this hovercraft is friend or foe, and I don't want to take my chances. With my bow still strung, I at least have something to defend myself with if I am attacked.

The hovercraft encircles around the area before hovering directly above me. Curiously, I look up and see a figure pressing his body against the large window that takes up nearly one side of the craft. I swear he's looking at me, but I should be shielded enough by trees to stay hidden.

He has black hair, from what I can see, and grey eyes. Grey eyes. Seam eyes.

I walk out into the open without thinking of the consequences. Yes, Seam eyes. District 12 eyes. Gale eyes.

"Gale!" I scream, suddenly overcome with emotion. I jump up, waving my arms, knocking my bow from my hand. I am defenseless. "Gale! Gale!"

The boy's reacting. He's hitting the window, he's waving. It's Gale!

Why is he in a strange hovercraft? Where has he been for the past year? Is he in danger? Is he captured?

The hovercraft starts moving again and on instinct I follow it. Jumping over logs, avoiding trees, I run until I am out of breath, exhausted. Falling to my knees, I am too weak to yell out his name, too tired to stand when the hovercraft once again glides into my view.

Forcing my head up, I do not have time to understand what happens next. A loud, deafening booming sound explodes in my ear and my sight fills with fire before everything goes dark.


	2. The Aftermath

**_Two: The Aftermath_**

I'm back in the dream from this morning. The fire's merciless on my skin and Gale's body is even more mutilated as I cry over his remaining limbs. There isn't a second wasted when I'm not trying to wake up, but I never can. I'm confined within the dream, forced to watch Gale die as many times as my cruel imagination wants me to.

It feels as if I've slept for an entire century when my eyes at last open. My body feels stiff and sore, tired, and alarm flashes though me when I realize I can't remember why. Taking in the large, darkened room of grey walls and shelves of miscellaneous supplies does nothing to fuel my memory; it only helps to confuse me.

Where sense of time and place should be is now just a blank void in my head. I recall being like this before, blacking out and having to be explained what happened, but no matter the familiarity of this feeling, I still don't like it. It makes me feel vulnerable.

I start to relax when I notice Peeta. He's standing against the wall opposite of me, but when he notices I'm awake he takes quick strides until he's kneeling beside me. I watch him watch me, taking in his look that can only be described as agonizing concern.

"Oh my god, Katniss." Is that fear in his voice? "I thought you were gone! I thought I lost you!"

It's not just fear, its relief. I see remnants of tear stains on his cheeks. I try to reach for him and instead curl up in pain.

"Give her some space, Peeta," Haymitch says from somewhere. "That girl's been through a lot."

Following his orders, Peeta pulls away and the unsettling feeling returns. I reach out again, gasping from the tenderness of such simple movements. Clearly seeing my struggle, Peeta reconsiders his actions and instead moves closer, entrapping my hand in his, the tightness in his grip a knowing sign that something isn't right.

"How much longer do we have to stay here? We need to get Katniss some help."

There's pleading in Peeta's voice. I wonder what kind of shape I'm in.

"We wait until we get the sign the coast is clear. And Katniss will be fine. The magic of Capital medicine will have her good as new in no time."

"So we're going to the Capital?" asks Peeta.

"Seems so."

"But why?"

I hold my breath as I await Haymitch's reply, the first explanation of what happened, which, considering the situation, is already looking as bad as my nightmares. Only, he laughs. Not in fun but in annoyance.

"Peeta." From his voice, I can imagine the look on Haymitch's face. Serious but mocking, as if the answer to Peeta's question is obvious. "…District 12 just got _bombed_."

Peeta fumbles for something to say and then falls mute.

At first I think I don't hear him right. District 12 couldn't have been bombed! Then as it sinks in, the idea of being attacked by a bomb used solely to destroy, I'm left puzzled.

Bombed? Who would bomb us? We have no enemies, at least none on the surface. I'm sure there are Capital people who truly admired Snow and are angry at his overthrowing, but even if they were to strike, they are nothing against the majority of the districts who are grateful that Snow is gone. It would be a wasted effort to fight for a cause already lost.

But as I think about it more, something clicks in my head. A hovercraft. A hovercraft dropped the bomb. Did I see it happen? I must have, or how else would I know this?

"Was it a hovercraft?" I ask quietly. My voice is so faint that it takes several tries until Peeta and Haymitch finally understand what I'm saying. Peeta goes back to looking concerned.

"You tell us. You were the one in the woods hunting. The bomb dropped only about one hundred yards from where we found you. You're lucky to be alive!" Haymitch says.

"Do you remember?" Peeta asks quietly, observing the confusion spreading across my face. He gently tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear as he says, "It's your birthday, remember? I baked you a bow and arrow cake. You went out hunting. I was planning something special we could do together when you were done, but, well, I guess we'll have to do that another time." He chuckles a little, but there's no humor in it.

"So where are we now?" I ask.

"In the basement of the Justice Building. We've been here a few hours."

"And what is it like outside?"

When no one answers, I fear for the worst. Pictures of a destroyed and abandoned District 12 comes back to haunt me. Crumbled buildings, decaying bodies. It was hard to stomach then, but it's worse thinking District 12 could be attacked a second time.

"Are there casualties?" I finally ask in whisper.

"Sure," Haymitch says too matter-of-factly. "Too tough to say how many. Luckily the bombers missed hitting the center of town. Only about a third of the district was damaged."

"Who would do this?" Peeta's voice rises in mild anger. "Why would they do this?"

"Those are the two questions everyone is trying to figure out, Peeta," Haymitch says.

Who. Such a simple question with so complicated an answer. I rack my brain for a memory, a clue, of what or whom I might have seen before everything went dark.

Strangely the only person I keep envisioning in my head is Gale. He couldn't have possibly been in the hovercraft. Or was he? Is this why he's been missing for so long?

Despite knowing I'll sound crazy, I say it anyway.

"Gale was in the hovercraft."

"What?!" Peeta and Haymitch say in unison.

"I…I saw him."

Haymitch doesn't believe me. "Sweetheart, Gale has been missing for over a year. We had extensive searches all through the districts and the Capital."

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't.

"Meaning what?" I demand in as loud of a voice as I can manage. I lift my head, grinding my teeth as I strain my neck to see. For the first time I spot Haymitch, wine bottle in hand, and this annoys me. No matter how serious the situation, Haymitch can't keep his hands off the booze.

He and Peeta exchange a knowing look. They both know something I don't. Something about Gale. Do they know where he is? Has the mystery of Gale's disappearance actually been solved, and I'm the only one out of the loop? And if they did know information, why would they keep it from me? I care for Gale far more than either of them do.

Not receiving an answer, I ask a second time. It's Peeta who replies to me and his voice is surprisingly hesitant as he says, "We didn't find him, Katniss. So… so we all fell under the assumption that… that, um, Gale was dead."

The shuddering feeling that runs through me isn't an emotion I'm used to. It leaves me breathless, like a punch to the stomach. Hurt like I've just been stabbed, over and over, by the people I've trusted the most.

I feel betrayal.

All this time when I've thought Gale was out there, alive, Haymitch and Peeta, and who knows how many else, believed he was dead. That explains why everyone stopped looking after the initial search took place almost ten months ago. They thought they would just be searching for a body, not a living, breathing person.

It's an insult to Gale. He has the survival instincts and hunting skills to keep himself alive far longer than most. He's smart enough to not do something extremely stupid, and I know he would never put himself in a situation where the outcome could only be death.

Haymitch and Peeta know this. Gale was in the war, fighting alongside them. He was one of the best soldiers District 13 depended upon. And only after a year of being absent, they've already given up the search. Gale is dead in their minds.

Everything in me says to argue back, to deny this, but I don't. Besides, I'm too tired and in pain to show the full wrath of my anger. Closing my eyes, for the first time in a while I pray I fall asleep. Even if I'm only slipping into nightmares.

xXx

"Oh, why didn't someone tell me it was Katniss' birthday?! This calls for a celebration! Paylor, call the cooks at the mansion and tell them to make all of Katniss' favorites! Paylor, are you listening to me? Paylor?!"

I don't have to be fully awake to recognize the high-pitched voice of Effie Trinket. It floats above all other voices- why she used a microphone during Reaping Day, I have no clue- and hits just the right frequency that my head pulsates in a weak headache. I hear her calling after Paylor, who is clearly ignoring her, and I open my eyes only when Effie sounds far enough away to not notice I'm awake.

Unlike the last time I woke up, this scene is familiar. I'm in a hovercraft, most likely speeding along to the Capital. Soldiers armed with heavy weaponry stand guard by the large window, talking in low voices. Peeta and Haymitch aren't here, and I assume they're on the second level, which usually becomes a makeshift meeting room during travel.

A young man walks up to me and holds out a glass of water. Seeing it makes me realize how unbelievably thirsty I am. I have the drink down in seconds and am pleased when the man holds out another.

My body does not strain or scream in pain when I sit up. Haymitch was right, the Capital medicine works wonders. Now if only I could use the same application on the destruction in District 12.

The man waits as I drain a third glass. My stomach grumbles loudly. I'm starving. Hearing it with his own ears, the man makes an indication that he'll be right back and leaves to probably get some food.

A moment later he comes back with one of my favorite dishes, lamb stew over wild rice. I have a few spoonfuls mashing in my mouth before I realize I've never thanked him.

I swallow. "Thank you," I say politely.

The man nods, smiling, before disappearing again. His silence must mean he's an Avox. A majority of the Avox community still works for the government, continuing a job of familiarity rather than searching for one within the Capital. Of course Avoxs are treated with much more respect now and research has gone into healing their tongues so their speech will return.

I focus on eating slowly. I want to prolong my meeting with Haymitch and Peeta and all the other government officials for as long as I can. They'll probably all want answers, insights to what I may have seen in the woods. Fortunately most of my memory came back to me while I was asleep, replaying in my head like a dream. It makes me a mixture of nervous and frustrated thinking no one will believe me when I tell them. Perhaps they'll accept that the hovercraft I saw was not Capital made, but what will they think when I tell them Gale was inside of it? I'm no stranger to seeing things that aren't real, but Gale I am absolutely positive was real.

"Do you want another bowl?"

I look up from scrapping off the remaining spoonfuls of stew to find Peeta standing over me. He's cradling something in his arms, bundled up in blankets. It looks like a baby, but that's impossible.

It's the first time I get to really look at him in the light. His face looks unscathed, but it's in his hands and the dirt coating his pants that you can tell he has been through something. Maybe he got this way while rescuing me from the woods.

"No, thanks." I set the bowl aside and stand up. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Are you alright, Katniss?"

"Well, I feel a lot better."

"No…" He bits his lip. "About what I said about Gale."

"Oh." A sudden surge of emotion comes through me, but I push it down. As upset as I am about that, I don't want to show my anger. Peeta looks so exhausted right now. And I've never found satisfaction in taking my fury out on him. Better to save it for Haymitch. "I guess I understand where you were coming from. He has been gone for over a year." I look him in the eye to make him see I'm serious. "But I know what I saw, Peeta. Gale was in that hovercraft."

"I never saw the hovercraft, so I can't prove you wrong."

"Then please, Peeta, just believe me."

He nods. Not that he'll believe me, but that he'll try. Then he looks down at the bundle in his arms and I know he's waiting for me to ask about it.

"What's that?" I ask on cue.

"We found him while doing a sweep through of the district. I thought the medical team could save him. They think he died instantly from fright."

Pulling back the blankets, I peer down at a lifeless Buttercup. No one bothered to close his eyes. He stares at me with his merciless scowl. I swear I can hear his hisses complaining of my presence. And I can't help it. A few tears shed from my eyes. I'm crying because of some stupid cat I never liked!

Now I'm in Peeta's arms. He holds me until I've gotten out the last of my emotions. But I'm not just sad about Buttercup. I'm sad for District 12, for Gale, for the fact that I have no idea why any of this is happening.

"Peeta." I pull away but stay in his protective hold. "Have you heard anything about what's going on?"

"Apparently District 12 wasn't the only district to get bombed. Districts 3, 8, and 11 were also bombed, and everyone who saw it all claim of seeing the same strange hovercraft."

With Gale in it, I think to myself.

"Where is the hovercraft from?" I ask.

"A place that's been here all along, but the government has kept hidden from us." Peeta gulps. "Have you ever heard of District Zero?"


End file.
